


Take Your Time in a Hurry

by jenaicompris



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Adelia Earp, F/F, F/M, Guns, Haven't seen season 2, Knives, Original Character(s), Witches, it's a family affair, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenaicompris/pseuds/jenaicompris
Summary: When Wynonna turns 27, another Earp is unearthed. From the perspective of Wyatt's little sister who has wandered the Earth since the curse began, seeking penance for her part in it. Can Adelia right the wrong of her family or will she simply bring about their complete and utter ruin?





	1. Prologue or How the West Was Won

**Author's Note:**

> Adelia Earp is loosely based on a real person in Wyatt's family. This was written entirely on my phone, so please pardon any glaring mistakes (or point them out). I've not watched season two so this is all based on season one and my own brain.

The Earps had a nasty habit of making my life difficult. It seemed to be the way of things, however. If it wasn't my damnable brother, it was my damnable great-great-grandniece.

Throughout the years, nearly a bicentennial's worth of 'em, I'd floated freely about the world. I had taken to moving every seven years; seven was a good number. Any more than that, people started wonderin' at the young lady that looked the same as the day she'd entered town.

It took me a while to cotton to what was going on; a fair sight longer than I'd like to admit. Truth be told, I'm still not _entirely_ how I ended up on the pretty end of the so-called Earp curse. More 'n that, I wonder why I'm not the Heir. Not that I much minded; my brother's gun was always a little too flashy for me.

Oh, Wyatt. I missed him more than anyone had a right to after so long. Names, faces, places; they all faded into the background as the years passed. All but two.

Wyatt and Doc; my brother and the man I loved. It went unreciprocated, as far as I was aware. Even if he had cared for me in such a way, Wyatt never would have allowed it. He loved us both but he didn't trust Doc with me; he knew him too well, I imagine. My brother always saw me as a delicate flower, one that needed protecting. What he never understood was that he was the one that needed my help.

I had a large part in the conception of the Earp curse, such as it is. When Wyatt and I walked into the OK Corral, only for my brother to be set upon, I did the only thing I knew how.

He wasn't a bad shot, not by half. But he wasn't _that_ good either. He would've been bleeding out on the floor if I hadn't intervened.

If people had known about what I could do, I would've been branded a witch in a time where people didn't take too kindly to the idea. I, though, am what some people deem a white witch; I don't much care for labels, though.

I casted a spell on his gun with a muttered incantation and a flick of my fingers. To have casted on him specifically would have been to break an oath I had made to myself when I realized what I was capable of.

The thought now makes me laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in common parlance it should be "cast" but "casted" is a more antiquated version that fits her speech patterns better. It actually pains me to re-read it but...all in the name of art or some such nonsense.


	2. Just Life

When Wynonna Earp came into her twenty-seventh year, there was no keeping me away from Purgatory. As much as I never wanted to set foot in that godforsaken place so long as I haunted the earth, there wasn't much I could do about it.

There was a pull in me, the sort of pull you can't ignore. The closer I got, the harder it was. Until I crossed into the Ghost River Triangle.

I fought it. I fought it hard. At first I tried to get as far away as I could - as it turns out, this is also a common Earp trait in the new millennia.

It took me until December to finally force myself to cross that line. After a visit from the not-guardian angels that had plagued me periodically that couldn't exactly insist that I go but definitely suggested I should, I walked passed the sign that looked like someone had used it for target practice.

I had changed about as much as a person could, shy of plastic surgery, from the time I'd last been in Purgatory. My hair, once red, had been through all the colors of the rainbow. Punk suited me at the time; electric blue hair, the color of the cloudless sky and enough piercings to disguise as much as I could. Tattoos obscured my arms, covered by an old Army-green jacket. I wore my hair in my face, over a pair of in-vogue glasses that I didn't need. 

I was not myself and that suited me just fine.

What didn't suit me was the state of the bar as I strolled into town. It was smashed to hell and covered in blood. 

"So it's started," I grumbled, turning my back on the swinging doors as I stood on the sidewalk. Hands in the pockets of my jeans, the desire to keep them hooked to my belt long-since forcibly removed from muscle memory, I looked around the town.

It looked like a ghost town on December 23rd, early in the afternoon. Until an apparition down the street in the form of a tall, pretty redhead in uniform caught my eye.

"Hey, miss? Officer?" I called, a forced Boston accent rolling off my lips. She turned and I jogged towards her, smiling broadly. "Sorry, I just got into town. Looks like the bar there has seen better days. You know of anywhere else a girl can get a drink?"

I didn't want to ask about the Earps. I'd find them on my own, in time. If I had to. 

I had to.

But first, I needed a goddamn drink.

"Officer Haught," she replied with an easy smile, although the edges of her eyes betrayed a suspicion regarding my person.

"Aptly named," I smirked, folding my arms over my chest. Shit. I extended a hand to shake, coated in rings. A tattoo extended down over the back of my hand, snaking along the backs of my fingers beneath the metal jewlery. What name did I want to use this time? "Danny Wright."

"That so?" she intoned, taking my hand in a firm grip with her cheek a pink. "Well, Miss Wright, I've got some friends that might be inclined to help with your problem."

I should've known an Earp couldn't pass up that pretty face. When we made it to the homestead, I felt sick. 

It was too late to back out now. I just hoped nothing funny was about to go down and take me with it.

Fucking Earps.

I would be the first to admit that Wynonna was every bit an Earp, from the sarcasm to the barely-concealed scowl she didn't really try to hide when I managed to make my entrance. She didn't seem all that interested in whether or not my name was real, but her hand itched towards a familiar gun at her hip. 

She reminded me of me at that age, how long ago it was - despite the fact that I barely looked old enough to drink. 

Waverly was the sweetest thing and, it appeared, the Earp that caught the siren. It made me smile to see them catch eyes across the room when we entered. But she definitely took a second glance at me; I doubted it was appreciation of my person or even because of my hair. Oh, but she was clever.

The real problem came when an all-too-familiar face topped by an equally familiar hat came in through the front door with a load of wood. 

Being the closest to the door, it would've seemed odd not to take the bundle and allow the man an unhindered entrance. I ducked my eyes and kept my breathing even, despite my internal screaming.

"Who's this?" the voice I hadn't heard in too long still sang through me like I'd never missed a moment. The last time I saw him was from a doorway as he coughed blood onto a pillow case. 

"Danny," Nicole - Officer Haught - offered politely and I turned towards Waverly to follow her in order to deposit the wood.

"Where'd she come from?" Doc asked; I could imagine the face he was making as he removed his hat and coat. 

"Found her looking for a drink at the bar."

"She look familiar?" Doc.

Wynonna replied, "No. But that doesn't mean she's friendly."

I wondered if they knew I could hear them and smiled to myself as I dumped the load near the fireplace. I knew this fireplace.

My initials were carved inside, in the corner. Or had been. 

"Thanks for the help," Waverly beamed at me as I dusted my hands over the thighs of my torn jeans. 

"Oh, yeah, no problem. Couldn't leave him standing there like that, you know?"

"You want that drink now?"

I nodded and followed her back towards the kitchen and the houses other occupants. 

"Danny?"

I turned to look at Wynonna, glad that she had said it and not Doc.

Until I was facing down the barrel of my brother's gun.

I raised an eyebrow, remained still. "Odd way to make friends. And an awful lot of people if all you want is my money."

She took a step forward, eyes narrowed as she looked from my face to the gun and back again. 

After a long, tense moment she lowered her gun and looked only slightly apologetic. "Sorry. It's...complicated." She took the bottle of whiskey from the table and held it out to me. "Drink?"

I smiled easily at her, still shaken from Doc's appearance but using it to my advantage. "Thanks. So. Complicated? I suppose that's the sort of story you can't tell a woman off the street."

I was pointedly ignoring looking at Doc for a myriad of reasons. I knew one hand was itching towards his gun without looking up. I knew the man as well as I had known Wyatt. 

When he said "pass it here" I had to glance at him to pass it off, eyes finding his hand but not his face. 

"Yeah. It's uh...." Wynonna started but shifted the speech as we all shifted to chairs in the sitting room. It was strange to see it so different and yet unchanged. "...so what are you doing in Purgatory?"

"Passing through, mostly. On a great adventure across the country or something. 'Finding myself', I guess." I paused a little and took a swig of the bottle that had been passed back to me. I could taste his tobacco. It made my heart ache. I looked to Wynonna. "Anywhere in particular I can smoke?"

"Just on the edge of the porch," she replied, gesturing to the door. 

"Right. Back in a sec. Nearly dying'll do that to you," I smiled like I meant it before I hoisted myself up from a chair that felt as old as I was before I exited the house of my childhood.

I took big gulps of air to steady myself, swallowed down the electricity buzzing in my veins. It wasn't, strictly speaking, electricity; it was magic. It was magic that wanted out. And it was need. 

"Damn it," I hissed to myself, jumping when I heard the door open behind me.

Of fucking course.

Doc tipped his hat up and then low as he came to stand beside me. I leaned against the porch support beam, glad it was sturdier than I felt. I managed to fish a cigarette out of my pack and he'd lit a match for his own. My heart was beating so loudly in my chest that I was surprised he couldn't hear it.

"Thanks," I mumbled around the butt of my smoke as he tossed the match. "Always preferred matches to lighters." 

"I knew a young lady that felt the same. Said the smell reminded her of home. Where's home to you?"

Here. Right here.

"Boston," I replied more easily than I would've liked. Danny Wright, this persona, was from Boston. 

"Long way from home, aren't you, miss-?"

"Wright. Call me Danny."

"You often make a point of lookin' at your shoes, Miss Danny?"

Fuck you, Doc Holliday. 

He was forcing me to look at him without touching me; I kept my head tilted a little down and risked a brief glance to his face. Not his eyes. I couldn't look him in the eye. 

How was he alive?

"Do I scare you?" he asked calmly. 

I wanted to laugh. Instead I shook my head, shrugged. "Not particularly. You remind me of someone I've spent a long time trying to forget, is all."

If I knew him, he looked surprised. Doc Holliday wasn't often forthcoming with his emotions or much of anything, but I had been able to catch him out once or twice. I had looked away quickly and continued to smoke my cigarette. After a minute, I asked the air, "They send you out here to watch me? I feel like I've done something wrong."

"Not much right about being here. A lot has gone down in the last few days. So much so it's hard to know who to trust. Don't take it personal."

"I'll try...hey, what's your name? I got everyone else's."

"John."

I snorted. I knew it wasn't a lie but it sounded so strange. "What, your last name Smith?"

I bet he looked confused. I couldn't risk checking.

"It's a joke. It's supposed to be a super common name here. In America, I mean. Anyway. It's nice to meet you, John. Say, is the Wainwright up and running? I've got to find a place to stay the night."

"How do you know about the Wainwright?"

"....Google," I replied, as if his question was ridiculous.

"I...yeah. Well, most of the town is out of sorts this week. Wynonna might let you stay." I could hear his sly grin. "...there's a bed in the barn big enough for two."

John Henry Holliday, I ought to slap that look off your smug face.

"Thanks for the offer, John. I'll ask inside." I tossed my cigarette to go out if the frying pan and into the fire.

The last thing I wanted to do was stay in that house and Doc Holliday was the least of the reason why. It had nothing to do with Wynonna pointing a gun at my head and everything to do with the soul of the place. I'd never sleep it I stayed. 

It looked like I didn't have much of a choice. I was offered the couch and couldn't very well turn it down.

I didn't know how long I could get away with lying about who I was; Doc would figure me out eventually, I imagined. As changed as I thought I looked and as unexpected as I might be, I was still Adelia Earp.


	3. I'll Be Damned

I didn't think it could get worse, but it did. On day two, amidst helping with righting the town for reasons I couldn't fathom with little to no explanation regarding what in the hell was going on (I knew more than I let on but still not enough for my liking)  and avoiding looking Doc in the eye, I caught on to something that felt like a stab in the heart.

He'd taken a shine to her.

It was Big Nose Kate all over again, except this time it was Wynonna. It was my blood. It was a not-so-sweet demon-hunting young woman that had done me no true wrong. I couldn't even hate her for it.

I wanted to hate him, but how could I? He didn't know I was alive.

He didn't know I loved him.

It made me never want to tell them the truth, especially him. But I couldn't go without sleep for two nights and Waverly had already insisted I stay another. I should've come up with a reason not to but I didn't have it in me.

I wanted to believe that, if I drank enough, I wouldn't dream. I knew that wasn't the case and, what was more, I knew that if I drank too much I might lose what tenuous control I still had on the situation.

I already knew it was all going to go to shit before I closed my eyes that night.

I could feel every Earp as I lay there, dead or living. All the pain and suffering of that house, every tear shed because of what I'd done to save my brother's life.

I always dreamt of Wyatt. For some time after I thought Doc had died, I had dreams of him breathlessly asking for help. Mouthing the words. Surrounded in dirt.

Wyatt, though. Wyatt begged. He begged me to take it back. To save him. Us.

Everyone.

Encased in flames, Wyatt reached for me - clawing at the air, reaching across space and time and death.

I woke up screaming and choking.

I could smell smoke before I saw it.

The house was on fire. I searched the room; it hadn't started there. That meant it probably wasn't my doing.

I scrambled up the stairs, finding two pairs of people in each room to warn them.

It felt like the fire had burst through my chest when I saw Doc and Wynonna in bed together. I didn't have time to think about it, or why it hurt more than all the whores I'd seen him with in another life - proper prostitutes, not a derogatory term for my great-great grandniece.

"House is on fire," I hissed, turning immediately away to warn Nicole and Waverly. "GET OUT!" I yelled over my shoulder.

When I made it downstairs behind everyone, it was to be clustered and trapped on the landing.

The house was burning down around us and there was no way out.

One way, I amended. I shoved past everyone to stand where the flames licked my bare toes. They felt cold.

"What are you doing? Danny!" Waverly grabbed at my elbow but I ignored her, raising my hands into the air. I closed my eyes and recited words from memory, feeling the rush of power flow from me. An ethereal wind that started and ended with me whipped my hair. I knew it would be red when I opened my eyes again. I knew my piercings would be gone, the tattoos erased. Aside from my clothes, I would be indistinguishable from my former self.

Doc would recognize me in a heart beat. But there would be no beats left if I didn't do it.

I gasped as the air was pulled from my lungs; rather than douse everything with water, I pulled the oxygen from the flames. Those behind me would remain unaffected while I struggled to breathe.

But they needed me and so, as the blackness of unconsciousness crept into my vision, I was resolute.

I heard Doc breathe, "Addi?" before my head hit the ground.


	4. Drawn to Destiny, Running Toward Fate

It had been glamour. The hair, the tattoos, the piercings. The rings and make-up, the clothes were real. But I was still very much Adelia Earp beneath all of it.

Much to my chagrin, Doc had recognized it just as easily as I had anticipated.

I woke up on the couch, the house set to rights. No scorch marks; it was as if nothing at all had happened. Not using your powers for much more than play for so long left a lot of pent-up energy, it appeared.

"Is it you?"

I inhaled, coughed. I struggled to sit up and noticed we appeared to be alone; I wholly doubted we were. For the first time in well over a hundred years, I looked him directly in the eyes.

"Yes, Doc. It's me."

He reached a hand out, shaking unlike anything I'd seen on the fastest gun in the west, and brushed a string of dark red hair to the side. "You look...exactly the same."

"I've been twenty for a long, long time," I smiled weakly at him. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. Consumption suits you."

"A...lot happened that Wyatt didn't tell you about, I'd wager."

"That was always the way of it, wasn't it? Earps are as good with holding secrets as we are with whiskey."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still a little wide. "You mind if I ask you something? Just...Wynonna will need to know. That it's really you."

"Ask away, Doc. My memory ain't what it used to be, but I'll see what I can come up with."

"How old were you when we walked into the OK Corral?"

"Fifteen. Just turned. Wyatt was thirty-three. You were thirty."

"You have to ask her something only she would know," Waverly offered as she entered, putting a glass of water near enough for me to reach. She seemed guarded and I was sad for it. "The internet."

"I'm not much of a historical figure. I can't imagine you'll find much about my exploits on the internet. Should've checked," I smiled a little. Waverly typed on her phone for a minute before reading out more facts about my life than I'd realized anyone knew. "Point taken. Okay, Doc. Ask away."

"What was the name of your horse in Tombstone?"

"Penny," Waverly answered before I had a chance.

Doc seemed frustrated and shot a look at the youngest Earp. "You are making this difficult, Waverly."

"Have to make sure, Doc."

"All right, then. What was the last thing you said to me?"

That hurt - more the memories than anything. Seeing him, dying in that bed with nothing I could do. I could've saved him but at a price I couldn't bear to pay. Wyatt would've never forgiven me and I didn't know if Doc would've either. "Forgive me," I replied, wiping at my cheek. I sniffled. "I asked you to forgive me and you smiled. There was blood on your teeth. Wyatt wouldn't let me go in but he gave you my-"

I stopped as Doc produced the favor I had given to a dying man. A still-pristine pale blue handkerchief with AE embroidered in the corner.

"Why?" he asked, and it felt like the room had fallen away. "Why did you need my forgiveness, Adelia?"

"Because I couldn't save you. No...that's not right. Because I didn't. It was you or Wyatt and I think he might've killed us both if I had. He came back, from visiting you and accused me of doing it. Asked who I'd killed for you." I was crying, tears silently rolling over my freckled cheeks. "I could've cured you, but I would've had to give it to someone else. That's how it works. Tit for tat. I wanted to, John...I would've taken it myself if Wyatt hadn't stopped me."

"You tried?" he asked, incredulous. He was leaning far forward, on his knees at my side as he had been.

I nodded, "Before I came to see you that last time. He came upon me while I was preparing for the spell. Broke everything, tore it apart, threw it out. Told me..." I stopped and let out a choked laugh, "told me not to be a lovesick fool of a child. He wanted you alive just as much as I did, but the difference was he wasn't willing to lose me to do it."

Doc knew about me, or at least some of it. He was one of few.

"So...you're a witch?" Wynonna asked from behind me. Doc was still watching me as I wiped away the evidence of my emotion and cleared my throat. I felt well enough to move so I shifted my feet in front of me. Doc didn't seem to be able to look away as he climbed back into a chair across from me.

"Yes. And you're the Heir." I turned a little to look at Waverly. "And you are more than you think."

"What does that mean?"

I shrugged, "Being a witch isn't all spell casting. Trust me. I know, rich, right? Seriously, Waverly. Just remember who you are."

I could feel it there; I was surprised Wynonna couldn't. There was darkness; when she'd touched my elbow the night before I felt it spark against me. I thought that had more to do with why she hadn't handed me the glass than anything. I didn't know enough to say anything and I doubted anyone but Doc would've believed me anyway.

"So...You're Adelia Earp?"

"The one and only. Unless someone named their kid after me. Little Earp. Tagged around after Wyatt to keep his ass out of trouble."

"Or start it," Doc chimed in, one side of his mouth quirked in amusement.

"Not my fault the idjits didn't know better than to touch Wyatt Earp's sister. I could've taken care of them myself, you know."

"Oh, I know. I've still got the scar to remind me, lest I forget."

"You're young," Wynonna stated, sitting on the couch beside me heavily with Peacemaker across her lap. She handed the bottle of whiskey over to me.

"Hardly look a day over a hundred and fifty, right? I'm surprised the pollution hasn't taken a toll."

"You've been...just around? For over a hundred years?"

"Around and avoiding this place like the plague."

"If I didn't already believe her, I do now," Wynonna scoffed and took a pull of the bottle I handed over. "But...why aren't you the Heir? You're an Earp, if all this is true. And a closer relation."

"I got my own part of the curse. That part was on Wyatt, not me. I'm not his heir. Never much cared for guns."

"You might wanna start, Addi," Doc frowned a little. "Things here in Purgatory are worse than when you left."

"You tryna break the curse, then?" I looked at Wynonna. She nodded. I sucked my teeth and let out a low whistle. "Well. Looks like our work is cut out for us."

"Our work?"

"Hell yes, little Earps. Wyatt'd come back and drag me down with him if I didn't help out his...what is it, great-great granddaughter? S'pose that makes me your aunt, after a fashion."

"Am I supposed to call you Auntie Adelia?" Wynonna asked with due disdain.

I let out a laugh. "Addi'll do just fine."

"Well, Addi - you know much about breaking into a prison?"

I looked over at Doc and smiled, one I imagine he recalled quite easily. "A thing or two."


	5. Accuracy Ain't Everything

I had promised myself I wouldn't cast on other humans, save for helping them, when I was too young to understand what I had committed myself to. I wasn't my brother; I had no great desire to wrestle foes. He taught me a thing or two. I had fired Peacemaker at cans but hated how my hand shook after.

Knives. Knives I liked. I only used them when I needed to. I only used them to protect myself.

Over the century and a half alone, I had grown more comfortable with the idea of using my magic for ways I hadn't wanted to.

I was in the barn, throwing knives like it was life or death,  when the door opened behind me. I spun and threw a knife, very intentionally narrowly missing Doc's head.

"You missed," he said as I moved over to retrieve the blade from the wood.

"I didn't and you know better," I smiled a little, tipping my head like I would if I was wearing a hat, easily falling into the old mannerisms when faced with an old friend. "You need somethin', Doc?"

"Can't an old friend just want to be around a familiar face?"

"An old friend can, but not Doc Holliday. And looks like you're pretty familiar with these ladies."

"Oh, don't be like that, darlin'," he huffed a bit, tipping his hat back with one finger. He entered farther into the barn and closed the door over, leaning back against it. "You don't understand."

"'Cause I'm Wyatt's little sister?" I snorted, throwing a knife into the far wall where I'd scratched an X before I started.

"No, Addi. I was stuck down there in a well for the past hundred-forty years."

"Yeah, well, I was stuck wanderin' and trying to find my way around for the same. Best not try and have a pissin' contest about this. We'll both lose." I returned from pulling the knife out and handed it with the handle out to him. "Nothin' to understand, Doc. You always liked the pretty, fiery ones."

"Not a one more fiery 'n you," he replied with a too-soft look in his eyes, hand out to move aside a lock of my hair.

"Don't think Wynonna'll trust me any more than the nothin' she already does if she thinks I'm trynna move in on her man."

"I'm nobody's man, nor is she anybody's woman."

"Tell that to the way ya'lls eyes look at each other. I'm many things, John Henry Holliday, but one thing I sure ain't is a damn fool. I didn't come to Purgatory to start anything. I came to finish it."

"And what is that, then?"

"This damnable curse."

His mouth gaped a little before he caught himself and cleared his throat. "You always had a way of blamin' yourself for things tha' t'weren't your fault, Addi. Wyatt killin' demon Clootie did it."

"And how do you think my fool brother managed it, Doc? He might've pulled the trigger but I put the spell on Peacemaker, years before. You think he could've hit the broad side of a barn without my help? You knew him as well as I did before the Corral. If I hadn't saved his hide that day, none of this would've happened. We'd all be in the ground and these damn demons'd stay in hell where they belong."

I hadn't had much intention to tell the truth of it but I was fiery mad at him, at myself, and at the world. Doc looked mighty confused for a spell before he shook it off. "Still ain't your fault, sugar."

"That why the Stone Witch put a curse on me? She wanted me to live through it, to watch what I had wrought. To see my brother die, to watch you waste away, to be privy to all the death and destruction that came because of a flick of my goddamn wrist. I'm not alive out of choice, Doc. There's no killin' me. Trust me, plenty've tried." Myself included, although I didn't feel like sharing that bit of information.

"I didn't, though. I'm here. You're here."

"Fat lotta good that does me. I do wonder at it, if she knew what'd happen with you before she cursed me. Doubt it. Vindictive she might be but she ain't that smart." I sucked my teeth and tossed a knife with more aggression than I needed to. It made me miss the X. I grunted as I moved to retrieve the blade. "It's all the same. I'll help ya'll get the agent outta prison, put the assholes in the ground, and move along when it's all finished. Leave you and little Earp to your life here at the homestead."

"He left it to you," Doc blurted, standing between me and the post.

"I know. And I left it to his kin."

"You are his kin, Adelia Earp."

"I don't want it and you know it. I would never have come back here if I'd had a choice."

"Whaddya mean, if you had a choice?"

"The Heir called me back. Or Peacemaker did. Or the curse. I don't know. All I know is that I had to come. So I did. I am here and I am going to help Wynonna fix what I broke."

He put a hand on my shoulder and I didn't turn to look at him, although the desire to put a knife to his throat burned in me. "You keep saying things about me, Addi. Like how me wastin' away wrecked you. About how you would've died to save me. About how watchin' me waste away was part of your penance."

"What of it?" I hissed, eyes narrowed at the dust particles that drifted over the makeshift bed there.

"Wyatt I understand. Your family I understand. But me? Why me?"

"You're a damn fool, John Henry. You always have been. None of it matters now anyhow."

"None of what, Adelia?"

"Stop asking questions that you don't want the answers to. Imma go find Wynonna and see what she's come up with. Best get Dolls out of prison before long. If what you said was true about what he can do, he's no normal man. Which means he's as important as he is dangerous."


	6. Mistakes or Memories

Truth of it was that I had no practical experience breaking into or out of a prison in the current day and age despite any previous experience. However I was a fair sight better off than Doc insomuch as I had come to experience the years as time developed, rather than being thrust into all the madness at once.

Waverly took to getting some form of schematics after Nicole determine the specific location. Wynonna and I made a plan.

"You can't just...you know, pop in?" Wynonna asked with a slight bit of sarcasm as she leaned back from the table we had been staring at for hours.

"That's not really how it works. Most of it is manipulating my surroundings or others' perception. Other things, those bigger things... that's when it gets damn dangerous. And while I can't die, I'm not to sure about your friend the deputy."

Wynonna huffed a little, as though my answer was the last thing she wanted to hear, before she shoved away from the table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. After taking a long pull, she nudged it into my hand.

"You think we can really do this?"

"Little Earp," I smiled at her, raising the bottle in a cheers. "Yeah. I do. I think it's going to be messy and we haven't even talked about what'll happen after we bust him out...like how they'll guess you had something to do with it and I imagine they'll have ways to find him that'll leave us scratching our heads. Getting him out isn't really the issue, is it?"

"Ahhhh, shit." Wynonna's face blanched as if she hadn't really thought that far ahead.

"Yup. We need to worry about getting him out rather 'n breakin' him out."

Doc scoffed but wore a version of a smile as he came upon the two of us for the bottle of whiskey. "I reckon you'll have a harder time seducin' these lawmen, m'dear Adelia."

Rolling my eyes, I swiped the bottle back from him. "T'wasn't seducin' I was suggestin'. We've gotta convince them they don't want Dolls. Iffin I could make a reasonable facsimile that would last a while, I'd go that route. Best I know is a spell that wouldn't end well for anybody so that's out. Instead, we'll just have to do some mighty fine convincin'."

"I don't think these are the kinds of people that we can sweet talk."

I snorted and raised an eyebrow at my brother's descended progeny. "Sweet? Ain't nobody said a word about being _sweet,_ Wynonna. You get me the name of the person that put 'im in there and the name of whoever scares _them_ the most... Then we'll have a plan."

"So why've we been looking at this map for hours?"

"Nobody said we couldn't use a Plan B," I shrugged a little as I found the whiskey again. With the bottle in hand, I moved the door that would let me out onto the front porch.

"Where you goin' with the drink?" Doc asked as he crowded behind me on the porch.

"I wonder if she knows we used to smoke all over the house," I smiled faintly, clutching the bottle protectively under my arm as I went about procuring a cigarette and lighting a match. "I think Wyatt'd laugh at this all," I gestured with the bottle now in my hand at the peeling paint facade of what had once been my home.

"He'd be mighty affronted by the state of the land, at the very least."

I sucked my teeth. "That's another thing I took from him, I reckon."

"Now don't you go startin' up that same ol' song 'n dance, Adelia Earp. You know as well as I do Wyatt made his own choices."

"I s'pose," I shrugged and took a heavy swig, passing it over begrudgingly as he reached for it. "Don't matter much now anyhow. I never did understand it. I woulda been bored to _tears_ , stuck here all my life." 

Doc chuckled a bit, tapping the brim of his hat up as he handed the bottle back. "It was hard enough to get you to sit still for a game 'a cards. You never were the settlin' type."

I felt a bit queasy or something akin to it. He was right but over a hundred years of being forced to move more 'n once in a decade kind of made it hurt. To push it down I took the whiskey back and let it burn my throat. "Huh, yeah. Can you imagine me on the homestead with a bran' new baby on m'hip?" I laughed, maybe a little too loudly, and drank more. "T'ain't a thing funnier 'n that. 'Cept maybe this whole mess."

"What, pray tell, do you find so funny about demons terrorizing your great-great-grandniece?" He made to sound like he was shocked but the edge of his mouthed curved beneath his mustache and there was no mistaking it.

"Not a damn thing, 'cept that I _have_ one for them to terrorize. Wyatt makin' babies will never _not_ make me laugh. Sure he was a good enough lookin' fella and the ladies liked him well but he was _Wyatt._ He might've had everybody else fooled but you and me, Doc, we know him how he truly was. History has painted him as some goddamn stoic hero but they left out the part where he'd make goofy faces after a bit too much brandy or how he couldn't stomach that...what was it, peyote or sommat?" I sighed a little, Wyatt's same blue eyes crinkling in my face. I lit one cigarette with the one I still had before tossing the older of the two. " _Goddamn_ , but I do miss him."

Doc held the bottle in one hand, his cigarette out, and laid two fingers over mine on the railing of the porch. We had stood there before. "I am not one much for grandiose shows of emotion but I do miss him too, Addi. I was not a man with many friends as you well know. Wyatt, he was the best of 'em."

"Hell, he was the best of us all, I think. A good man, my brother. A fool," I smiled sadly, almost laughing at a memory. "but the best."

We stood in silence for a few more minutes before I cleared my throat and snatched the bottle. "We oughta get this show on the road. No tellin' what sort of interference we'll run into the longer we wait."

"Same ol' Adelia," Doc smirked, tipping his hat low. "Can't wait for nothin'."

"Miss me?" I asked with a too wide grin over my shoulder before I turned around completely. Cigarette discarded, I led the way back into the house.

"Like hell," I heard but I don't know that I was meant to.  Couldn't quite tell which way he meant it and didn't want to find out by askin'.


End file.
